If I had to write this with compulsions
It would take a hour for each word
An empty shell with a story to tell
Thank heavens I can now be heard
Blurry lyrics or a collection of genius
My perception they all make sense
A messy mind had a complex calm
Writing this feels so intense
My lowest point, I’d be counting letters
Fragile with anger in my darkest hour
Turning pages a bittersweet torment
Anxiety risen, a story turned sour
Six months I’ve received this calm gift
Continued to put paper to pen
A thought stuck in the back of my mind,
Will my creative desire be grounded again?
Youth was hell, middle age is now
Although the middle feels like pretend,
Because what if this just six months relief,
Keep questioning how’s it going to end?
This thought really struck hard
A pool of water drowning my flair
The best way to be guided forward,
Is to make it real, stick it out there
A clear mind feels to good to be pure
Intrusive thoughts, a form of creative theft
If I couldn’t produce my written work,
My impression is, I’d have nothing left
I’m pleased my lyrics are not lost in translation
It’s where my silent mind has its speech
Forever fighting this fermenting stigma
I hope its helped someone, the people it has reached…
A women stands before me
Waiting to be kissed
We get lost in the moment
Lustful heat not to be missed
She surrenders to me
Breaths then pauses – stops
Knowing it will never come to anything
She’s right, she’s worth more than a night
One lapse of judgement
Is all she allows
Enough for conscious to peak
She pulls away – hushes my speak
Experienced in restraint
Recognizing the reality
What would be a lifetimes guilt
This passion of humanity
The responsible adult
I’m the impulsive youth
She recognizes this truth
Still treats me with respect
Strokes my chest
A love quest, a lustful chance
Not risking hearts on a fated romance.
It was dark
And I was alone,
Think and repent they said,
Who do they think they are
A trait devoid of understanding.
Have they ever been shut away
Like this before
with no Windows?
I thought not.
I haven’t until now,
I’ve known people who have,
Anyway I found nothing,
Inside myself, nothing.
Only a thought
And a question.
Why does persecution
Fall on the wrong people?
The thought was about my mum.
See I’m no harm to anyone.
Tell the truth or live
It doesn’t matter
I’m lost you see,
Shut the door
Throw away the key.
Leads to resistance
Looking for blame
Why I feel this shame
For not being more
Living life with a crawl
With no ambition or hope
On a slippery slope
Where all are superior
I’m stuck on my rear
Looking at the others
Sisters and brothers
Who walked the walk
Cut out the talk
Got to the top
Where I had to stop
I’ve had enough
Life’s to damn tough
Hand from a stranger
No coldness or danger
Or judging or shame
No need for a name
Explanation not needed
No excuse to be heeded
Picked me up where I sat
I needed that
The journey is long
Just makes you strong
Though it took a while
Done with a smile
Now I understand
Give myself a hand
Because I’ve come so far
With many a scar
A chance to embrace
Life’s new face
Night is calling
Eyes bare the weight
of lights burden
creating a pathway
to the calm
Sleep briefly takes
But awakes, Yes!
By the finger poke
A false jump
The world shook?
But somethings afoot
A brain junkie
Dark’s its playground
Times its prey
A friendly foe
Ally of games
Tickles the mind
Tortures the sane
No, not real!
In my mind
Does still calm
Stir the mind?
And dark black
Awake the blind
A false paranoia
Of whole being and surrounding life
Wakes suspicions that lye deep,
Of being held back
By the ropes of family ties.
Blaming those close,
Though media taps the conscious
Convincing the soul that superiority
Should flourish in all aspects of life,
Forcing perfect and diversity to collide.
Envious of images and dialogue,
Paraded by distant friends
And choosing to believe these mockeries
Makes you unfulfilled.
Feelings brought on
By an exaggerated tale,
Fake below the surface,
Creating a paradox of modern culture,
Engaging with the masses
Through pretence social outlets,
Leaves depression in its wake
Creating polluted remorseful souls,
Though it rages on.
Feelings of inadequacy ingrained.
Compare is to scare,
Choose intimacy over distance
Trust warmth by consequence of touch.
‘Not more words from prophet of doom
Where does this soul find the room?’
‘Its true I write the bad I’ve felt
Dark places I’ve been, edges I’ve knelt
‘Inside their head those words of pain
What do they ever hope to gain?’
‘An outlet I use, a voice to spread
Of all the things I wished I said’
‘I bet they always need help and reliance
Bringing people down with their awkward silence’
‘I feel the tensions, sense the sound
Its harder sometimes when I’m around’
We’ve all had issue’s, we just don’t tell
Why do they have to sulk and dwell’
‘I’m affected worse it’s my mind you see
Stick around I’m actually quite funny’
‘Truth is I don’t understand or relate
Surely writing this will seal their fate’
‘I want to feel joy and that’s the key
Depressions easy to feel but harder to see’
‘Just carry on, life’s way too short
We all suffer, just don’t give it a thought’
‘I suffer alone, head in my hand
The reasons why I don’t understand’
Its hard tolerating someone who you feel is not acting how you want them to. In a anxious, angry or depressive state, how the other person thinks or feels doesn’t come into the equation as you are just concentrating on the matter in hand that’s affecting you.
I find when your in a desperate, anxious situation the tolerance and patience levels goes right down and you lose it at any kind of negative response.
Someone who can tolerate, understand and recognise these elements in certain people with mental health issues or just in general, and to be able to carry on with their own lives normally without judgement or criticism are people to treasure.
As someone that has ill mental health I understand how people don’t understand. To feel how I feel is totally unique to others. Its just Alien to people on the other side of the health spectrum. Once I understood that, paradoxically I could be more open about my feelings, because in the end it doesn’t matter, I still thought I was being judged and stared at, so I thought I just as well talk about it honestly.
Every now and then I’d get a response of support and understanding and this becomes and wondrous moment.